


Lost The Battle, Won The War

by AudeTheThird



Series: If There's a Future [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Darcy Lewis and Jane Foster Friendship, Darcy is a badass, Drama Llama, F/M, Memory Loss, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-14 08:31:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7162508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AudeTheThird/pseuds/AudeTheThird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Historically, two people waking up years out of their era means that they've lost a significant amount of memory that may never be recovered. </p><p>That's only true for one of these crazy kids.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waking Up

They sat in the car, Darcy nearly on his lap, hands twined together.

Steve was trying to keep his eyes on Darcy, reaffirm she was there, alive, and clinging, but struggled when the outside world became incredibly distracting.

Lotta cars. Lotta lights.

She just stared at his too-big hands wrapped around hers, and blinked.

"Where are we going?" she muttered to the Director. 

"It's just us now, Lieutenant. No need for suspicion."

"That doesn't answer the question." Steve said sharply, and caught his eyes in the rear view mirror. He could've been in that ice for a hundred years more, his stare wasn't any softer.

The Director sighed.

"We had hoped that by putting you two together we'd encourage cooperation." he said, and before either one of the Depression era soldiers bit back, he continued: "We're going to an apartment we've set up for you two at the moment. This isn't an inquisition, Captain. We do not mean any harm."

"You say we," Darcy said, and arched her brow. "But I thought it was 'just us', Director."

His eye flicked to her in the mirror, and he turned to look at them briefly as he stopped for a red light.

"You should know better, Lieutenant." he said mildly, and fixed his gaze forward. "Even SHIELD wouldn't outrightly harm one of the founding members."

Steve glanced down at her, but she just shook her head at him. 

"Stop the car." she said flatly.

"You've been asked nicely." Steve said, when Fury only kept driving. "Don't make me put my foot down."

There was no moment in which Darcy wasn't entirely sure of her power over the man - thinking that it would be interesting to see what would happen if Steve really did put his foot down, possibly through the floor of the still-moving vehicle - but the Director very calmly veered through the traffic, nearly piling them up, before mounting a curb and jostling them both.

Then he put his arm around the back of the headrest and swiveled in his seat, looking between the both in their matching SSR shirts and pale sleep pants.

He felt the weight of their stare, intimidated, even if they were clinging to each other like teenagers caught in the throes of something naughty.

"Now that the car is stopped," he twisted the keys out of the ignition and put them on the empty passenger's seat beside them. "May we discuss?"

"Discuss." Darcy sat back in the cushion, dragging Steve's arm up over her shoulder, still holding onto his fingers. He curled them around her hand and braced his free one against the door, ready to pop it open.

"You've been in ice for nearly seventy years." he said evenly. "At least, you have, Captain."

"How did you find me?" he turned his attention to Darcy.

"I'll tell you later." she murmured.

"Did it have anything to do with Howard Stark?" the Director said, and she repeated herself, telling Steve, but glaring at him.

"What did you mean, by that little stunt there, Director?" Steve pressed. "Puttin' us in the hospital. The baseball game, the nurse."

"We thought it might be best to ease you into the new century." he said evenly. "There is no precedent for time traveling to the future the way you have. It was supposed to be gentle."

"I wasn't aware the agency knew how to be gentle." Darcy tipped her head at him. 

"They aren't." he said, fixing her with a look. "Now. You found Captain Rogers in 1950, correct?"

She was a miserable seventeen when they initially got together, eighteen when he went down in the plane. She was now twenty three years old, physically. Steve seemed to have the same thoughts and squeezed her hand, which Fury politely refused to acknowledge.

"I did." she swallowed, and leaned further into Steve's side. 

"I see." he looked over her. "So. You're not going to be forth coming with how you found the Captain, or?"

"Or." she agreed, and wetted her lips. "Director Fury, all due respect, I been in the ice for longer than intended. I'm likely to be more cooperative when fed and warmed up, some."

"There are things," he said patiently. "That we should discuss. The world is not as you knew it."

"I've no doubt." Steve said firmly, and arched a brow. "But my girl would like breakfast and a shower, Director. Is that gonna be a problem?"

"Of course not." he said slowly, and picked the keys back up, shoving them into the slot beside the wheel. "We value your individual happiness."

"So you should." Darcy said evenly, and tucked her face into Steve's shoulder. "S'it far?"

"A few minutes, providing traffic continues."

"Hm." She said, and put her legs over Steve's for good measure.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence, in Steve running his hands over her head, her spine, trailing fingertips over her calves. She just hung on, because, while she'd initially hated Steve's huge shoulders and wide chest, they had been all that kept him alive in the ice. And she'd missed him, all six feet and two inches of him.

The Director cut the engine, got out of the car. Darcy unwound, even when Steve looked at her with his hang-dog eyes, asking her if she wanted to be carried.

"I got it." she said, and took his hand when he offered it. She didn't let go.

They were admitted through a small lobby - the receptionist looking up to confirm them with a solemn nod at the mono-eyed man - before lead up the stairs, past silver doors in grey walls. There were no pictures, and only small windows, as they walked through. Finally, Fury swiped a silver bit of plastic through a slot beside a door with '1B' embossed into the wood, and lingered, watching them look around at everything but each other.

"When you're ready, Lieutenant, Captain. Come downstairs and someone will meet you."

Steve nodded absently, listened to the click of the door shutting behind him. 

"They'll have eyes on us." Darcy said softly, inspecting the soft looking couch. "Ears at least."

"Let 'em listen." Steve growled, and pulled her around to wrap his arms around her waist, hoist her up against his chest. She made a noise that wasn't whimpering, it _wasn't,_ and his sigh made her whole body shake.

"Steve." she murmured.

His fantastic arms tightened. 

"Darcy?"

She held his head to her chest, let him listen to the pounding of her heart against her sternum.

"There's so much I wanna say." she said, kissing his forehead. "So much I thought I would say, when I found you."

But then they lapsed into silence again. More because he was emotionally weakened than physically, he sat on the sofa with one of her legs pitched on each side of his hips, face tucked against her collarbone. She ran her nails through his hair, down the back of his neck, over his expansive shoulders.

"You're a Lieutenant?" he murmured quietly.

"Yeah. Stuck around in the army for a little while after..." she replied softly. "After... you. I... It doesn't matter, now. What are we gonna do?" She breathed in deep, satisfied when his grip didn't even budge on her expanding ribs.

"Let's get in some clothes fit for this era," he said. "And see what these people have to say."

"S'too soon." she said, and shook her head slightly.

"Well they can wait, then."

They ended up sitting there for over an hour, just touching, reaffirming, being together. She was sure that if they were being watched, someone was waiting for the raunchier part of their reunion. If they were being listened to, someone was probably very bored.

"You founded a secret service?" he said, finally.

"Yeah. Well, between us. Peggy and Howard ran it mostly. I trained a few of the first recruits after I left the army, but... I was occupied."

"By me?"

"Yes, honey. By you."

He leaned back, leaving hands on her waist, swallowing.

"Five years." he said, very gently. "Baby. Five years is a long time."

"Yeah. It was five years more than I liked." she replied, and ran hands over his brow. "We can't talk freely here, sweetheart. Let's see what these people want and then we'll figure out what we should do."

* * *

  
Steve was wearing pressed khaki coloured slacks, a white undershirt and blue plaid on top, still fixing the buttons when he peeked his head through the gap in the door and came in to sit by her on the bed. His shoes were nice, but the leather belt was nicer, and she reached over to run her fingers over it.

"I can smell that new leather," she said, faintly amused. "S'driving me crazy."

"Everything is new." he said, and reached out to touch her face. "Even you're a little bit new."

Darcy had pulled on a pair of knee length jeans, tucking in her baseball shirt into the high rise. On her feet, thick fabric boots with a red floral print. 

"I'm only a little bit different," she said, and kissed his hand. "I certainly don't feel new."

He looked at the booted feet tucked up on the edge of the mattress, and flicked one of the laces.

"Always braver in boots." he commented, and she cracked a grin. "Should I change?"

"Never." she replied warmly, and took his hand. "Ready?"

"Yes, ma'am."

They walked with the same kind of determined stride learned in an army, but that was detracted from, somewhat, by the hand holding. There was a bald man in a suit waiting, who gave them each a long once over that clearly translated his disappointment in seeing what people their legend was based on.

"I'm Agent Sitwell." he said, very pleasantly, and his hands remained crossed in front of him. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I'm gonna go huntin' for my own food with a gun in a minute." Darcy said flatly. "There was no food in the kitchen."

"We are to rendezvous in a cafe down the street. Anything you want in particular?"

"A burger." she said, and looked at Steve. "Bigger than his chest, if at all possible."

"It's not." Agent Sitwell said, completely blank.  
  
They were told most things. Things about the President and how SHIELD had progressed and how the war ended; how they were both given bank cards loaded with money and IDs and their dog tags.

Darcy didn't take hers, but Steve did.

"Got the name wrong." she said, when he offered them to her. "They should know better. Step up your game, Agent."

"I'll look into it." he said, and bowed his head. "We'll be in touch. If you attempt to run, we will follow."

"You will try." she assured him.

"The hell is that supposed to mean?" Steve said, a frown pulling at his brows. "'If we run'? What would we run from?"

"There aren't any concerns for you, Captain." the Agent said.

Darcy smiled prettily.

"You can go now." she told him. He didn't budge. "Preferably before I lose my temper. Go, now." She watched without blinking as he gathered his papers and left with only a slight rise to his hackles.

Steve picked up the tags, ran his thumb over them.

"Darcy Rose Lewis." he murmured, and studied the date. "They got your age right."

"Well, you found a secret service and suddenly being legal doesn't quite matter. Howard was pushing for an age restriction, but I wasn't letting him hamper the young." she said, and again, pushed the tags back at him. "The name's wrong, Steve. I'll wear them when it's right."

"But this is how you spell Lewis." he looked up at her. "Unless there's a silent letter, in there."

She offered him a brief grin.

"What do we do now?" he said, brows arched at her insistent tapping.

"Run." she advised, and they bolted out of the shop together. 

They weaved through the people, only letting go of each other to go wide around two women with prams and come back, shoulder to shoulder, managing to keep hands to themselves, but only just.

"Gonna explain?" he said.

"After you went down," she outrightly vaulted over a trashcan, clearing it easily. "Howard and I worked together to try and find you. Between us and Peggy, we founded - ... I guess they call it SHIELD, now."

"What was it?" he dodged around a vendor, the both of them running so fast that all the napkins flew up and the condiment bottles rocked violently from the force of their air.

"Strategic Homeland Interventions and Logistics Division. I just called it the Interventions Office, for short, but SHIELD makes sense. I left it to them, mostly, but the uh, insignia, that's mine. Those drawing lessons finally came together." she glanced at him. "What'd you think?"

"I liked it." he glanced back. "What's SHIELD actually do?"

"Well, we got into a bit more than just super soldiers and serums. Homeland security is for rookies. We were in the bigger and badder. Speaking of-" she dodged around a pair of teenagers sheepishly holding hands, then came back at him. "- I may or may not have a little bit of the serum in me. Whatever they injected Bucky with leaked into my system, as you know."

"You mean when you got shot the first time?"

"Okay, that happened once."

"Twice." he stared at the side of her head. 

"But it happened on the same day, so it doesn't count."

"Darcy, you were shot _twice_."

"Okay, I was shot twice. But in the gut, so it doesn't really matter-"

"Baby," he said urgently. "You know I'm talking about when you were shot in the head, aren't you?"

She blinked, looking forward. 

"Oookay. Not that I forgot that..."

"But you forgot that?"

"A little bit. It happens." she scrunched her nose. "S'not important."

"I thought you were dead." he said, voice dropping an octave. "I'd say it was important."

They ran for some time together, before she spoke again.

"Is that why you put the plane down?" she accused. "Instead of jumping out, or something other than tryna kill yourself?"

"Wasn't time to think." he offered. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."

"I'm sure."

They jogged, looking determinedly forward.

"What happened, Moxie?"

"I woke up, my daddy and Peggy were there, but you weren't. Told me what happened. That we were classified dead. That I shouldn't have woken up cuz I'd gotten myself shot in the head. That Pegs talked you down as you-...." She swallowed, reached out to punch his arm, reassure that he was there.

He let her. 

"I'm here now. You're here." he soothed. "That's the main thing."

"I guess." she glanced at him, and he was startled to see her blue eyes were flashing like a light bulb blowing out. 

"You've got the serum in you." he said lowly, and looked forward. "Stark did recreate it?"

"No. Whatever was in my system the, uh, first time I got shot, that was in me, same as Bucky. And then I altered the machine they stuck you in and I got in that."

"Howard let you mess about with it?"

"Not exactly. Howard got a little bit..." she blinked at the ground passing under her feet. They must've already run several miles. "Protective. I had to - leave."

Two and two made four. There was a reason the Agent was concerned with her leaving.

"You ran away?" 

"I didn't let my own mother fuss about me, I wasn't gonna let no man do it." she said, perhaps a bite sharply. 

Steve sighed, looked around, but he was lost. They just kept running, kept weaving around the people who looked at them - seemingly normal people in casual dress sprinting towards the middle of the city.

"Darcy." he said, and stopped, hands on his hips, looking like a goddamn triangle with his ridiculous shoulder-to-waist ratio. He was barely panting, but neither was she. "Honey?"

She stopped and turned, hair fanning out in a dark arc around her head. Her eyes were flashing again, and this time he knew he wasn't imagining it. He just looked at her, for a long second - the determined set of her jaw, the hard balls of her fists and the flex of muscles in her forearms. She'd filled in, become strong looking, but she was still so _tiny_. She maybe had a few inches of growth, but still not a lot. Her mouth was pinched but was still sweetheart shaped, and there were worried lines on her brow that hadn't been there when he'd known her.

"Steve." she said, and tilted her head.

"You're twenty three." he said lightly. "You look nearly the same as I left you."

"Except less dead." she shrugged one shoulder.

He recoiled.

"I wouldn't have left you," he promised, vehemently. "If I hadda known, if I hadda even thought for a second you were gonna pull through. I wouldn't have left you, baby. You know that."

But she just maintained her stare, a tick under one eye.

"You know that, don't you?" he repeated, and watched her shut in on herself, turn her face down and away. "Look at me, sweetheart. What's goin' on in your head, huh?"

"I just... lost everyone." she said tightly, staring resolutely at the floor. "And now we're both standing here in the future, and it still feels like I'm at war. Because my eyes see you and my hands feel you but my brain is tellin' me I'm gonna wind up hurt if I really believe you're there. My head... my heart _hurts_ , Steve."

She looked up at him then, frowning.

"It never stopped hurting. It never got any better. Howie said time would heal all my wounds, but five years, and it stung just as bad as the day I woke up and you were gone."

He wrapped her up in his arms, and she appeared to be trying to sink into him.

For Steve, it was like waking from a nightmare .He'd literally only just seen her dead a matter of minutes ago, blood pooling around her skull, eyes half lidded and shot through with bolts of red. He'd scrambled to find her pulse, couldn't find it, his own heart hammering staccato in his ears. He'd gagged over the smell of her brain, soft between the tops of his fingers. He had roared over her like an animal, had no idea how to feel all the things he was feeling.

Then Peggy was there, covered in Darcy's gore, holding her loose head to her chest and screaming - " _Get him! You get that bastard, Steven Rogers!_ " - and then he was in the plane, and Schmit was gone, and Peggy was in his ear, and Darcy - his best girl...

But it had been five years, for her. She wasn't a girl anymore. She'd become something else in his absence. Something darker, more reserved.

He wasn't sure what to say. What could be said?

"I love you." he murmured, and engulfed her in a hug, breathing hot against her ear. "But you're outta your mind if you think you can get rid of me that easy. Gonna take more'n a plane to take me down."

She made a hysterical noise that might've been an attempt at laughter. He kissed the top of her head, feeling her tighten arms around him, and just smelled her clean hair, rocked her gently from side to side. She held onto him, fingers curling into his back like she was actively preventing him from floating away.

"I love you too." she told his heart, muffled against his shirt. "I never gave you up. I _never_ let you go."

He kissed her temple, the top of her cheek.

"I'm glad you're here." he said softly. "Don't know what you went through to do it. Five years... A lot can happen, in five years."

She planted her chin in the deep crease of his chest, blinking widely up at him. He just smiled, stroked her hair away from her face, and pressed a very soft kiss against her nose.

"Nothing I can think of mentioning." she promised him, and tightened her arms. "All I knew was tryna find you. Now that I got you, all I want is some food. I'm still hungry." 

He cracked a wide, toothy smile. 

"Yeah?"

"Could eat a horse and the hay it slept on." she nodded, managed to unwind just one arm from around him. "What do you say to another bit of dinner?"

* * *

* * *

  
'A bit of dinner'. 

Two more burgers, a plate of pasta, an entire chicken between them, three bowls of salad and four bowls of fries.

"We can't stay there. In that apartment." she was staring at him levelly, over the stacks of bowls around them. Steve belched quietly under one hand, sat back in the booth with his hand still resting on her thigh. "I've had enough of being monitored."

"Howard?" he guessed.

She shrugged, linking their fingers, using the other hand to navigate her milkshake up to her mouth.

"Does it matter?"

He looked at his empty plates, and was pretty sure he just demolished days' worth of food in twenty minutes.

"He was always sweet on you."

"He was sweet on my brain." she corrected, and nudged him lightly. "We're going to have to leave that apartment, Steve."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to be monitored. Anything they'll offer will either be crawling with bugs or spies. I don't want them to listen to what I have to say to you."

He thought about it for a long second, rubbing her knuckles lightly with his thumb, one slow sweep to and fro. 

"We have no income. How are we going to survive?"

"With wits, dear." she leaned back and kissed his shoulder, left her cheek against his heated skin, rubbing her face against him like a cat. "We've handled worse with less preparation. Let's just leave, now. We'll disappear, start again."

"Yeah?" his eyes were only half lidded, when he looked at her. 

"Yeah." she nipped his chin, felt his chuckle reverberating in his chest. "You and me, and no one else. Whatever we want to do. There's no more war to fight so we can just..."

"Start again." he repeated. He made a noise like humming. "I like the sound of that. Get a little place on a farm, somewhere. Maybe it hasn't changed so much. I can work in the hay with no asthma now, and you and I could have a little place."

"Grow all sortsa food." she shut her eyes. "I loved the pumpkin patches. Us Lewises had the biggest pumpkins, always. Everyone in the county knew you could pick a Lewis by what they knew about pumpkins."

"Yeah?"

"Mmm."

He kissed her brow. 

"We could build a little cottage. 'Tween you and me, we could do it in half a day." he tightened his fingers around her, fractionally. "Have a couple kids. Maybe more. If you want."

She looked up at him.

"Kids?" she repeated.

"Do... you not want kids?"

"Steve-... How are we gonna look after a baby? We got the government hoverin' over us as is."

"Yeah but, we'll have been off the map for a while." he wet his lips. "They won't do nothing if we've got kids."

"They will never be lenient if we have a baby." she told him softly. "The product of two super humans isn't gonna go unnoticed."

He opened his mouth to speak, but any noise he might've made went out in a rush of air.

His artist's eye was painting him a picture - a white cottage with a beautiful floral garden, surrounded by land with tall grass as far as the eye could see. Two kids horsing around in the yard, nothing but energetic, healthy balls of laughter, in red plaid and denim. 

Darcy sitting with him on a swing on the porch, another baby nestled in a pool of blankets in her arms, smiling softly, all dark curls and in a soft cotton dress. The kids - a blonde girl and boy - called for him, and he kissed the baby on the head before going to lift each kid in a hand and fly them around.

Then he imagined those precious kids being taken away from him and having blood taken, being shut in little rooms with no windows, of being studied and poked at and made lab rats. He could see it, see their baby get cold, grow up lonely, robotic, naive but so numb to the world and what it could offer. 

He saw himself driven mad by the pain of losing his babies, and it was all his fault.

"Steve." she touched his face, bought it around to hers, kissed the tip of his nose. "Honey?"

"I wanted a family of my own for so long." he muttered. "And with you, I just thought... I didn't think. It's okay. You're right." he returned her little kiss, then tucked his face down in her shoulder.

She wrapped an arm around his head, carded the tips of her nails through his hair, then waved the waitress over to pay the bill, of which Steve had a minor heart palpitation about.

Always impressive, with someone who is _supposed_ to be a super human.

* * *

  
"I think we should talk tactics, Captain."

"By all means, Lieutenant."

They were sprawled on a sofa, her entire body on top of him, his hands buried in her hair. She propped her elbows on his chest, leaning over him, considering his face.

And really, who could cease and resist leaning down to kiss his nose? Or suck on his lip until he moved one hand lazily over her spine to her lower back?

Not Darcy, that was for sure.

"Mm. Distracted. Sorry." she pulled away, eyelids at half mast. He just swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, swallowed, and adjusted underneath her, navigating her legs into a more comfortable position about his hips. 

"You're not sorry at all." he accused, voice low and amused.

"I'll never be sorry for kissin' you." she informed him, quite seriously, and kissed him again, moving her hips around in a way that was purposely designed to send the both of them to purgatory.

"Darcy..." he made a noise just short of a groan when she dipped her pelvis, swivelled in a circle, the hand not tangled in her hair going to the back of her thigh. "Moxie, baby."

"Sorry." she said, whisper quiet, all the breath out of her lungs. " _Captain_."

"You had something to say..." he reminded her, voice weak. 

"Oh yeah." she swallowed, pressed a quick kiss against his cheekbone, then several more softer ones over his eyelashes and the bridge of his nose. "I was... thinkin'..."

He pulled her in for a more solid kiss, carefully spinning them on the couch so that he ended up on top of her, clamped between her legs. He had to brush all her hair out of her face, but stayed carefully out of reach when she next leaned up for her kiss.

"Speak before you get me distracted." he told her, mock stern.

"Like you aren't already... _distracted_." she tightened her thighs around him, brought him closer to home between her legs. He grunted, dropped his head to suck a dark mark into the juncture of her throat and shoulder, then sat back again, putting both hands on her belly and petting softly.

"Moxie."

"You only call me that when I'm in trouble."

"That's because it's your moxie that gets you into trouble. Baby." his hands slid up her legs to her knees, which he carefully pried open from his waist, lifting one to close her legs off to the side. "We got time, sweetheart. We got it in spades. Now tell me what you were thinkin'."

It took her several long seconds to remember... running her hands up his arms and across his chest, so thankful that all his extra meat kept him safe.

She dallied for a while longer, just running her fingertips over his muscles, then drew her hand away and sat up, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"They're never gonna stop houndin' us as long as we play nice. So why don't we stop playin' nice, huh?" she waited for his input, then chewed her lip and took both hands in his, crossing her legs. "I already did something. Put us in motion. I gotta plan."

"Okay..."

"Wait here, one second." she held up a finger, then got up and dug around in the draw. She held up a smallish device that looked decidedly handmade, then flipped a switch. Even his ears could pick up the squeals and screams of variously located listening devices in the room. 

He just smiled.

"That's clever. When'd you do that?"

"I had a minute in the toilet earlier. Needed the batteries out of your electric razor." she shrugged. "It won't last much longer, so I'll try'n be quick about it."

"Can you be quick about it over here?" he opened his arm, delighting when she cracked a wide, perfect smile, and vaulted the back of the couch to crash into him, snuggling under his chin, feet bundled up under her butt. "Alright, Lieutenant. Tell me what you got."

"There was an advertisement. For an internship, way out in New Mexico. Needed some kind of science major, and - I mean," she looked up at him. "I never studied proper, but I know more than enough. I got in touch with the lady and she seems real nice, she said I could bring my boyfriend as long as he pulled his weight."

The hope in her _eyes_. He caught himself nodding, but realized that, no, he didn't want to agree to this.

"New Mexico." he repeated.

"Far away and as quiet as I could get in a day, yes. They'll be monitoring the planes, expectin' us to leave the country. We'll just hide in their backyard, is all."

"What will I do? Heavy lifting?"

"Essentially."

He thought about it. Thought about it some more.

"They'll be looking for us." he warned. "And you and I have some pretty famous faces, from what I understand."

"So? I'll get some glasses, you grow out your beard. Don't give me those eyebrows, I know you can grow one now." her smile was made of stardust and all sorts of happy glitter. He melted fractionally.

"I could grow one before." he mumbled in his defence. "Just came in real patchy and thin."

"So try out your beard." her smile was minute. "We can do this, Steve. We can run away and just - _be_. The internship comes with housing, and I can get a grant from the university."

"The university you don't attend."

"Look, five years is a long time. I learned a lot." there was a flash of uncertainty on her face, but it was gone as quickly as he recognised it. "I'll pick it up, anyway, even if it takes a couple hours. My version of the serum's made me think fast."

He knew he didn't have much time, but he had enough to know one thing for sure.

"Darcy..." he said slowly. "I -... Don't want to."

"What?" she wiggled out from under his chin, folding her legs. "Why not?"

"Because-" he took in a big breath, took her hands in his. "I been useless my whole life, and now I'm able to do something, I'm gonna do something. I want to work for SHIELD. I want to help people."

It took her a second to factor that into her calculations, he could see. She was shifting, rearranging herself on the couch, like the idea made her feel twitchy.

"Steve," she said patiently. "I'm not going to be stuck in a bugged house and told what I can and can't do. I've had... enough, of that." again, the same unsure expression came over her, but she didn't elaborate.

"I want to help people." he pressed. "We can still help people, but on our terms. We'll just, negotiate our boundaries. This can work. We don't have to go anywhere."

She nodded slowly.

"I do." she said, and squeezed his hands. "I don't -... I can't, stay here. I've got some bad memories. I've got - ..." she scowled, then looked away, so he couldn't see her face.

"What's the matter?" he murmured, pulling her chin around to face him. She had evened her expression, hiding from him. "Baby, please. What's goin' on, huh? You've never been the type to run away from anything."

"I- got, this feeling. I got this, need. I needta run. Needta get away, far away from here." she swallowed, searched his face desperately for a clue that maybe, maybe he'd be talked into it. But she found nothing - he was carved out of granite, a smooth, clear stone. She vaguely remembered that he could be talked into anything, if he was given the right reasons. "You could help people in New Mexico. Be a policeman, or somethin'. You could still help at ground level." 

He pulled her chin in with the crook of his finger to press a kiss on the line between her brows.

"We could-" he didn't want to say it. Just to soften the words, he kissed all of her fingers. "We could split up, if you need to run. But I can't just be - a police officer, or a fireman. I can do more. I'm able to do more, and I can. I should."

She frowned.

"I don't want to be without you anymore." she whispered. 

"So don't leave. We can do this. We can keep on top of it. It's going to be okay." He wrapped her up in his arms, relaxing when he felt her sink into him, sigh heavily against his chest. He felt like it was a promise that he could make, so he stroked her hair, and kissed her head, and told her again and again. "Everything's gonna be just fine, Darce. You got me, I got you. We can handle anything."

And in the circle of his arms, she fell for it, let herself be lulled into it, felt like there was nothing out there that could hurt her, as long as they were together.

* * *

  
The next morning, Steve found her message on a cup of half drunk, kinda cold coffee.

  
" _Honey,_  
_Gone to do the thing._  
_I'll run home to you soon, let me figure it out._  
_All my love,_  
_Darcy. R."_


	2. Chapter 2

Something was ringing, in Steve's apartment. It sounded like a phone, but the one SHIELD had given him was on charge, with a blank screen. He went rooting around for it, found it wedged in the ice box, blinking merrily at him. The name said: "Dr. Ose," but he read it for what it was.  
D. Rose.  
 _Darcy._  
He smashed it to his face, fumbling with the answer button.   
"Hiya, honey." she said quickly, but sounded warm. Warm, and tired, and quiet. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Steve. Don't say anything, the apartment will still be bugged. Just listen to me, okay?"  
He exhaled hard, picked up his shoes, and pulled them on.  
"I want you to know that everything is okay with me, right now. I met Dr. Foster - this little spitfire of a woman. She's like a contained tornado. Not that I don't know my sciences, but this dame's nuts. Talkin' all sortsa noise about space and stars... What're you doing?"  
"Leavin' the apartment. I'm already outside."  
"I can hear the cars."  
He looked around, seeing the idly humming machines waiting for a light to turn green. He hunched up his shoulders, frowning a little, looking at the ground. For a second, he thought he was gonna be able to let it go, let her off the hook. Unfortunately, Steve Rogers' brain to mouth filter hadn't been so clear when he went in the ice, and it was still thawing.  
"I'm so _mad_ at you." he said, low.   
"I know. I'm sorry."  
"How could you do this to me, Moxie?" he searched the pavement like it'd turn up a clue. "How could you just leave me like that?"  
"I don't know, Steve." her voice was quieter. No less sincere, no less tired. "Something is goin' on in my head. I don't know -... I just, I don't know. I couldn't be there. I had to run. I feel like I can't trust nobody."  
That, stung.  
"Not even me?"  
She paused, and a sharp bolt of fear zig zagged around his chest.  
"No, I can trust you." she said, slowly. "I don't know about anything else. I'm not sure why. I've got a bad feeling in New York."  
They stayed in silence, on the phone. If he could hear her soft breathing, he was sure she could hear his more heavy exhales.  
"I'm mad." he told her. "Absolutely _boiling_. You didn't even say goodbye, you just left -"  
"Steve," she said, a touch sharply. "Let me remind you, I lost you for five years-"  
"And I thought you were _dead_." he countered. "That just makes this less understandable."  
"I can't explain it. There's - there's something I can't understand. I don't know." she retorted, and sighed hard. "Steve, please. I needed to go. I told you I was going. I went. You stayed. I can remember that once upon a time, you encouraged me to leave you."  
"That is not now and you know it, Moxie." he warned. "That was different."  
"Why? Because you were small and poor? And I was what, made of money and muscle?" she scoffed. "I can remember you telling me, I can almost remember your exact words-"  
"Why do you keep saying that?" he murmured.  
"Because it's relevant to the current argument?"  
"No." he frowned a little. "Why do you keep saying: 'I can remember', like you're proving a point?"  
There was a small break, a lapse in her anger, he could hear it. He was so attuned to her that even the tiny pause sounded like fear to him.  
"I'm not." she said, but didn't sound too sure.  
"Yes you are." he looked up at the sky, but couldn't see a single star. "Darce... You forgot you were shot, honey. And now you can't tell me what's wrong. Is it because you can't reme-?"  
"It's _fine_. You just know I'm not coming back until I'm well and truly ready." she told him flatly. "You come to me. I looked for you enough."  
He shut his eyes. A car chugged past, the fumes powerful in his nose. He turned his shoulders to the street, staring up at his new apartment.   
"I'm not goin' anywhere." he said softly. "I need familiar, right now."  
"That New York familiar to you, is it?" she goaded.  
He knew she was right. It did not make him feel any kind of good.  
"More familiar than anything else I got left," he said sharply. "That stayed put and didn't walk out while I was sound asleep."  
"We slept _enough_." she snapped.   
He pressed his lips together, counted to ten. On the other end of the phone, he could hear her doing the same.  
"Darcy, baby." he softened his tone. "What's goin' on in your head, hm?"  
He could hear her shaky breathing.  
"I don't know." she admitted, in a whisper. "Somethin'. I can't be there. I can't trust anybody. And... And you're right, but you're not right. There's things I know but I can't - I can't _remember_... Please... come find me."  
He swallowed.  
"Do you need me to be there?"  
"Will you come if I say yes?"  
"Of course." he waited. Waited. Waited some more. "You don't need me, sweetheart, you never have."  
"I want you." she admitted. "I've missed you."  
"And I miss you. But I'm not goin' anywhere." he eyed the apartment complex, the cars driving past, the couple linked arm in arm approaching on his left. "I gotta do something useful. You say the word, tell me you need me, I'll be there. But I can't for anythin' less."  
She paused, and he waited, swallowing his words.  
"I love you." she told him.  
"I love you too." he promised. "I'll be here when you want me."  
"I always want you." she muttered, and he heard rustling, sheets, against her. "I can't seem to stop wanting you."  
Steve wished he was there, in bed with her, her big eyes and soft mouth and hot breath. He gulped quietly, remembering her on the couch - her heat, and hands, and thighs. God. He'd been right in the seat of her pants, not sixteen hours before. Her skin was like nothing he'd ever had in his mouthy before, and he was alarmed to think it was a craving he wasn't going to be able to satisfy quickly.  
"You shouldn't say things like that to me," he mumbled.  
"Why not? It's true," she scoffed. "I always want you. I want you here in bed with me, right now. I want your kisses and I want your big hands on my waist. I wanna hear your heart beating under my ear, and I wanna know how far down the pink goes when I make you blush."  
"S'been a while," he drawled, and quite the contrary, started to burn. "Since I blushed because of you."  
"You're blushin' right now and don't pretend otherwise." she teased, earning a chuckle from him.   
They listened to each other breathe on the phone. She sighed, and he leaned against the fence, staring at the space between his shoes.  
"I'd kiss you everywhere you'd let me," he mentioned, almost off-handedly. "If you were here."  
"Yeah, well if you were _here_ ," she countered. "I'd let you kiss me everywhere."  
Steve's neck went hot. He almost felt like he needed to shake off the spike of sudden interest, the wonderings of how much he could tell her on the phone that he couldn't say to her face to face. He wanted to work up the courage, maybe practice some lines first. Somehow, blurting: 'I wanna take your clothes off Darcy,' just didn't sound romantic to him.  
"We should probably go," she told him, garbled through a big, jaw cracking yawn.   
"Probably." he mused.  
"Don't let this phone outta your sight. If they bug it I won't be able to contact you." she sounded like she was settling in her sheets. He wondered if her bed was big enough for him to fit in it. "And I wanna keep in touch."  
"Alright." he said, and sighed. "I love you, sweetheart."  
"Love you too." she said, sounding sad. "Bye, honey."  
"I'll see you later," he said firmly. "Darcy."  
"Course." she replied, sniffed and broke his heart. "Course you will."  
She hung up.

* * *

  
See, at first, Darcy was almost entirely out of her depth. Jane's science script was illegible, and what she could read made precisely no sense. None. Not a bit.  
So she parroted it back to her, watched Jane mutilate some perfectly good machines with duct tape and hope, and go on ramblings and get really excited about stuff.   
And that? Was what Darcy did know.  
She also knew how to scientist wrangle. She kept an eye on her caloric intakes (because, good machines and fuel,) and fed her poptarts, mostly, but one day woke up and managed to do some crepes without actually meaning to. She was blankly staring at the full plate in her hand, hovering outside Jane's trailer door, and thinking: " _What the hell, when did I learn this?"_ when Jane yanked the door back.   
She was in a long pale pink top with cute little bunnies on it, one sock, and her hair in a half hearted pony tail on the side of her head, blinking hugely at the plate.  
Darcy lifted it.  
"You work really hard so have some crepes?"  
That was it - the small offering that shattered the ice. And Darcy would know all about ice shattering. (And malfunctioning heaters that over worked and fractured the ice around her and caused all the melted water to come in and straight up freeze her solid when she was this close to getting Steve back.)   
Jane studied the crepes, looked at Darcy's huge glasses, and tilted her head to the side.  
"I could smell them through the door." she admitted, and took the top one with her fingers, shoving half into her mouth. Her eyes just about rolled into the back of her head. "Oh my god, these are the best. Come in."  
Darcy hadn't expected that, of course. She stepped into the small, pig-sty of a trailer, and snorted, because she hadn't expected that, but should've. All geniuses were cut of the same cloth, she was sure. She missed Howard but was angry at him and couldn't remember why.  
"I don't have clean plates." Jane said without any hint of sheepishness, pulling down an array of multicoloured bowls. "Have you eaten?"  
"Not yet."  
"Eat with me. Talk about yourself."  
Not 'tell me about yourself', 'talk'. Darcy sniggered, sat on the bed, while Jane pulled up onto the counter and smashed crepes in her face.   
"I... like... crepes." she offered. Jane nodded, humming, a smear of jam on her chin. It didn't look like she was going to wipe it away any time soon, and Darcy had to actively avert her eyes down to Jane's knees to stop from laughing. "Hey, that looks painful! How'd you get that?"  
She toed Jane's knee cap, where there was a fairly recent scar that looked like a thick white catapillar.  
"I fell." she said, chewed, chewed, and swallowed, then gave Darcy a big, sheepish smile. "Into a pit a half mile deep."  
"How did you miss that?" Darcy teased. She figured she already knew the answer.  
"I was looking - elsewhere, trying to get my readings, but they kept moving."  
"So naturally, you were running full pelt with your nose in the sky."  
"Give me credit. I fell straight down onto an old truck. It got infected, and I had to have skin removed, which is why it's so nasty. But I did get my readings before that." There was a touch of pride that Darcy completely understood. The mental image of tiny Jane bleeding out from the knee made her giggle, though, and Jane laughed with her.  
"Credit given." she said, and prettended to hand it over.   
Jane, to her surprise, accepted it, counted it, and tucked the invisible credit into her pajama top.  
"I have a few storm chasing stories, as you can imagine." she admitted. "Although most involve me roaring around in The Truck."  
"The Truck." Darcy repeated. "I'm sensing a capitalization."  
"That's because it's implied. I got the truck that someone had left in the pit."  
"The same truck that nearly killed you?"  
"Yes." And when Jane smiled, the heavens parted. She was feisty. Darcy loved it. "But he's kinda old now, and Erik's mechanics are very basic."  
Darcy slow blinked. Because she knew cars. But that car was after her time... still, if it was a bomb and on the way out, it couldn't hurt to, you know. Have a poke around.  
"Mind if I take a look?" she fluttered her lashes innocently. "I know a thing or two about cars, and I mean, I'm not gonna do it any harm..."  
"Where'd you learn about cars?" Howard Stark. Wait, did I? "You don't look like that kind of girl."  
"What does that kind of girl look like?" Darcy arched a brow over the glasses.  
Jane shrugged.  
"They usually have more grease on them. I roomed with my fair share of engineers, and they're all the same, deconstructing everything in reach and constantly grubby and oil gets into all their clothes and then into mine..."  
Darcy laughed, loudly.  
"I didn't bring any of my tools." she admitted. "And all these clothes I got from that little thrift store at the bottom of town so I looked a little cleaner."  
"Shouldn't have bothered, I don't care what you wear." Jane shrugged, sounding breezy. She stuffed another crepe into her mouth. "Mm. Let's have a look at The Truck, shall we?"  
Jane bought her crepes, only pulling on a pair of bright red gum boots in her pale pink bunny pajamas, leaving her hair as it was. The Truck was a rusty blue thing, looking exactly like it would kill someone if given half a chance, never mind if they tried to drive it any where.   
The wheels didn't fully support the weight of the vehicle, the support was all bent outta shape. There was a tear in the front of the hood, and Darcy had her suspicions that it was where Jane had cut herself and got infected. One of the headlights was busted - the windshield needed to be sealed, and one window was perpetually down.  
That was just on the outside.  
"Why the hell did you save this car?" she wondered, mortified. "It's a death trap. On wheels. I haven't even seen it's guts and I'm so upset about this, right now."  
Jane smiled around a mouthful of crepe. It was strangely endearing to see her happy chipmunk face full of food and beaming.   
"I used to have a nice car." she admitted, after swallowing her mouthful. "But I got into a fight with my ex - he was a doctor - and one day he decided to call health and safety on my lab and get half my machines taken from me. So I had to sell my car to buy parts for new ones. The Truck happened the evening before I had to start prostitution to afford to live."  
Darcy stared at her head, wide eyed, but Jane was matter-of-fact, totally mild. She meant it, and Darcy understood, but... wow. That was dedication.  
"Tell me you kicked the Dr. on his ass?"  
"Yeah, Dr. Douche is long gone." Jane said, with the kind of sad smile that made Darcy think she was lonely, even if she was glad the bad ex was gone. Howard. Howard. What?   
She took another look at the car, rubbing the back of her neck, under all her hair, before sighing hugely and putting hands on her hips.  
"Yeah, I'm gonna need a jack and all the tools you've got." she said. "I can't believe this. Stand around and hand me things."  
Jane shoved the last two crepes in her mouth as she went to get her tools.  
The inside of the car wasn't pretty. It was old, and rusty, and there were a few new components that, at a glance, made more sense than the old ones she learned with. It took her a minute, but she mentally deconstructed everything (serums were good, sometimes,) and decided she'd need scrap metal.  
And lots of it.  
"Most of this is rusted to hell." she told Jane, speaking to the inside of the truck. "It's gonna need to be stripped, and I'm gonna need like, two days."  
"Two days." Jane repeated. "The last mechanic to look at it said it was unsaveable."  
"Psh. It may not even take me that long-" she muttered, and something broke off in her hand. She stared at it, and winced. It looked vaguely important. "Okay. Three days. Give me three days. I'm gonna fix it, it's gonna be fine."  
"If you think so." Jane said slowly, and backed away while Darcy started disemboweling the thing with a vengeance and muttered swears. "Be gentle."  
"I don't know that word." she told the truck. "Alright, Truck. Let's whip you into shape."

* * *

* * *

  
The phone she'd gotten under a fake name - along with Steve's - had a photo taking option. She had downloaded all of Jane's music, and was listening to it on loudspeaker, when she got a text.  
 _From: Sr. Ogers._  
 _Miss you._  
She made a sad noise, swiped a hand over her forehead, collecting sweat. She was in a man's tank and it was white when she got it - but now it was black and varying shades of grey. The blue 'hoodie' around her waist had been discarded just before the sun rose, because these days, she ran hot.  
And she couldn't sleep.  
She wiped her thumb free of grease, hit the buttons.  
 _Miss you too._  
 _What are you doing?_  
She went and got herself a drink, came back to find a message.  
 _Punching things. Can't sleep._  
She smiled shyly at the phone.  
 _Me neither. Slept better with you._  
There was a moment, then:  
 _Need me yet?_  
Her smile faded. Yes. Yes, she needed him. She wanted him. She'd missed him for so long, and he was alive, he was there, in New York, where she had left him all alone. Even thinking about running back to him made her skin crawl. He was right, she wasn't the kinda girl to run away from anything, but she just didn't understand why she couldn't be there, and wouldn't until she knew what the problem was.  
 _Always._ she sent back. She wanted to say more. Needed to hear his voice. Before she could send: _Can I call you?_ he called her.  
"Hi." she was breathless.  
"Hi." he sounded down. "I miss you so much, honey."  
"I miss you too." she put down her wrench, which made a loud noise.  
"You fixin' things, Moxie baby?" he teased.  
She laughed.  
"Yeah, I'm trying. Jane has this old - well, she keeps callin' it old, it was made well after we were in the ice - uhm, truck. It tried to kill her, damn near keeps tryin' ta kill me, and now I'm fixin' it because she sold her car because she had a dirty ex-fella get the government to steal all her machines and was gonna be a prostitute without it, and I like Jane, I don't want her to belittle herself just 'cuz a money, not when she's got all these brains in her head..."  
There was a pause.  
"You got so country towards the end there, sweetheart." he was sniggering.  
"You shut up, Captain Ass-hat." she retorted, laughing with him.  
"Howard didn't stop callin' me that, did he?" he mused.  
Darcy couldn't remember, at first.  
"Naw." she smiled, reclined against the front bumper. "You were just 'Steve', to him, in the end."  
He chuckled, then evened out.  
"So." she said, and inhaled.   
"So." he replied, and she heard him put fist into leather.   
"Are you still punchin' things?"  
"Yeah. Keep breakin' the bags." he was so proud, the little shit. She laughed with him, and rubbed her face. "You're fixin' trucks. I'm breakin' bags. We should be together."  
"I know." she felt his loss acutely. But she wasn't going back to New York. "I-... Please don't ask me, Steve."  
"Wasn't gonna." he said softly. "I know you don't want to be here. I'm not gonna ask you to do anything you ain't comfortable with. I just - miss you. I know it's easier, with phones 'n' all, and even just hearin' your voice sets me right..."  
"But it's not the same." she muttered.  
"No, it's not." he replied, and sighed. "I haven't had word from SHIELD about you. They know you're gone, and I know they're looking, but they don't say nuthin' to me other than to try and get me to talk to some shrink."  
"Don't go to anyone that SHIELD offers." she warned, and swallowed. "Please, please don't trust anyone, Steve. Don't trust 'em far as you can throw 'em."  
"You know that's pretty far, these days." he teased. She rolled her eyes. "Alright. Pre-serum Steve Rogers throw. Two inches. Gotcha, babydoll."  
She giggled at him, and listened to him sniggering on the other end.  
There was a moment, an easy silence.  
"I'm gonna send you photos," she said, "Of my before and after truck. You're gonna be so impressed."  
"Usually am, when it comes to you. I'll look forward to them." there were noises on his end, doors creaking open and swinging shut. Footsteps. Voices. "I gotta go."  
And the sound of his abruptly normal voice and lack of endearments? SHIELD.   
"I love you. I know you love me. I love you so much, I miss you, I'm gonna send photos."  
"Yes, yes, ma'am. Of course."  
"Bye, honey."  
"I'll see you later." He reaffirmed.   
She stared at the phone for a long time after, chewing on her lip. What the hell had her life become? Somewhere in the future, really fuzzy past, talkin' to her sweetheart on a phone that fit in her pocket. She snapped a few pictures of The Truck, and sent them.  
He sent back a photo of his face and a thumbs up, so she sent him one blowing a kiss.  
From: Sr. Ogers.  
 _That one is going under your contact name._

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, my life went to shit for a long time so the sequel was a long time in the making. Enjoy :)


End file.
